Chapter Eight: Memories of a Lover

The train sped through the winter wonderland carrying with it one worried Possessor. He sat in a window seat, one arm braced against the small ledge as he brooded out the window. He wore a pair of jeans, white button down shirt and a heavy, navy sweater. A red scarf and dark gloves were casually discarded on the seat next to him; a faded, olive, messenger bag completed his look.

He sighed, pushed his glasses up on his nose and sighed again. Was it true? Was it possible? Was his beloved actually alive? He could only hope. But every time he did that he was sorely disappointed. He had seen the seal with his own two eyes; she was never coming back – and yet…?

Helena was with Kagetora. Not that that truly meant that Hanairo was alive, but no one had seen the feline in over sixty years. What had made her suddenly appear now? It was too suspicious. He had to make sure that the only woman he ever truly loved was alive… or dead.

He would have done so sooner had the blasted snowstorm not slowed him down. He would have been back home days ago, but the storm was slow moving and dump inches of fluffy white from Toyama to Tokyo and all the way up to Hokkaido causing lots of traffic chaos and delays; one, of course, being his train.

But if it was true – that Hanairo was alive – why had she not shown herself sooner? Did she no longer care for him or her brother or the rest of clan? That thought disturbed him for reasons he did not want to think about.

They had been lovers for nearly four hundred years and she suddenly decided that she no longer loved him? How, why? He wanted answers and he wanted them now, damnit! However… even if she no longer loved him, he could not keep himself from loving her. He truly believed that he had fallen in love with her at first site.

Due to the fact that there was to be a wedding, security around the castle and it's main clan members had increased. The union was between a powerful Lord who would bring more wealth, land, and military power to the Uesugi to the only daughter who was considered past her prime, but breathtakingly beautiful and a catch to any man. She also had a very hefty dowry to compensate for the fact that she was ten and eight.

He was originally one of Lord Kenshin's twenty-eight generals. However, due to the upcoming nuptials, he was taken from the battlefields. Lord Kenshin himself informed him that because of his skills, he would be watching over Lord Kagetora for a few weeks. Little did he know at the time that 'weeks' would turn into centuries.

Regardless, he took his duties seriously. He followed Lord Kagetora about on his daily tasks – battle plans, the wedding security, etc, etc. It was actually servant gossip that had caught his attention, all of it concerning Lady Hanairo Uesugi.

The servants whispered about her extreme beauty, but her icy eyes and voice kept them fearful of her. Older ones told stories of her youth and how she was traumatized by small touches or about how she would escape the castle and run wild in the streets. None were allowed even close to her save for her father and brothers and three maids who were hand picked by the Lady herself.

And now she was to be married to a man, the women deemed, "wicked" in both looks, actions and of course bedroom manner. "Oh, she won't be able to handle him," they whispered, "he'll have her beaten if she makes as much of a fuss as she does here." "It's a good thing he's taking her away then we won't have to deal with her ridiculous demands."

Of course he tried to ignore this talk. When they did, if ever, meet he would judge her from that meeting and not what others said. However he could not deny that he was curious about her. Were all the things true? Was she really so horrible? Was she really so… unique? Was she really so beautiful?

He never intentionally sought her out. One day he did glimpse her walking through the gardens as was her habit. Her back was to him the whole time. He tried a few other times, but all were in vain. She was a hard woman to keep track of. However on their first meeting he truly did get more than he bargained for.

On his own walk through the gardens – truly too simply glimpse her face – one of her darling maids had approached him. He had learned that the trio was not only hand picked, but also not allowed to associate with any of the other servants in the castle. This outraged many, but Lord Kenshin allowed it. He found out later that those three women were isolated to help protect Hanairo from anything and everything that could cause a relapse of her childhood.

But on this day, this warm and sunny day, one of the little maids approached him. She bowed deeply. "Sir, have you seen my lady about?"

Puzzled he shook his head. "No. I have not."

The young maid worried her lip and bowed again. "Thank you, sir."

She was about to leave when he asked, "Is she missing?"

Sighing she looked utterly distraught. "Sir, she went for her dress fitting and has not returned yet. We are very worried and thought that she might have come to the gardens to clear her mind… but…"

Nodding he smiled softly at the girl. "Do not worry. I shall help you look. I'm sure she's right under our noses."

Smiling the maid whirled away from him. "Thank you. We will keep looking."

Puzzled by her ladyship's disappearance from the trio he was certain she was never without, he went in search of her. First he checked with the dressmaker who said she had not seen her for some time. Slightly alarmed he checked all of the places he thought she might be - her rooms, the gardens, the lake, the kitchens, but alas he came up empty handed. He started at one end of the grounds and worked his way to the other trying to find any trace of her.

Real panic was starting to well inside of him. He did not want to alarm Lord Kenshin, but he feared it was coming to the point where he had to tell him that his daughter was missing with only two days left until her wedding.

Had she truly run away from the fate that was destined to her?

Stopping in one of the lesser-used guest portions of the castle, he threw open the screen door of one of the rooms and stopped dead in his tracks.

The heady scent to jasmine assaulted his nose.

Bright, vivid colors nearly blinded him: white like pure snow, pink the soft color of cherry blossoms, red as deep and dark as blood. Golden dragons chasing tigers, cranes soaring over mountains, white petals floating like falling snow, these were the images delicately stitched into colored silk.

The wearer of these exquisite silks knelt in the middle of the room, the garments flowed around the lithe body like water, dainty hands pressed into the mats. Raven black hair was twisted and knotted atop her head adorned with golden combs and laced with precious stones and gems.

Upon hearing him enter, she straightened and glanced over her shoulder, bobbles from her combs falling in icy blue eyes. So beautiful, he thought trying to regain the ability to breathe.

She stood gracefully twirling the silks around her like a gust of wind. "Shut the door," she said her tone commanding. Several long moments ticked by before he was able to complete her task.

He had heard that the Lady Hanairo was beautiful, but he did not know that she would be painfully so. Dressed in her wedding kimono, her lips painted bright red, eyes rimmed in black, her face white, he swore she was a goddess come down from the heavens to torment mortal men such as himself. But he would gladly permit her torture if only she would let him stare at her for the rest of eternity.

"Who are you?" she asked gazing at him as if he were an insect.

Perhaps the rumors were true after all; she was a difficult woman to deal with. However her tone and posture somehow did not reflect in her lovely eyes. They were haunted, guarded.

Blinking himself out of his stupor, he bowed so low he nearly touched the floor. "My lady, I am Yasuda Nagahide. I was helping your maids look for you."

She ignored his comment altogether and took a small step towards him. "You were brought in from the front lines, were you not?"

"Yes, my lady," he replied still staring down at the floor. "I am one of your fathers' gen…"

She waved a silk covered hand, affectivity silencing him. He slowly rose and gazed at her. She was so lovely, so beautiful he ached inside.

"Who were you ordered to watch over?"

"The Lord Kagetora."

Her eyes narrowed and he felt himself shiver. In a swirl of colorful silks she walked towards him stopping a few feet away. Her eyes narrowed into icy slits and she demanded, her tone cold, "Show me your hands."

He blinked and slowly did as she asked. Palms up he tried to figure out exactly what she was looking at. His hands were definitely those of a warrior. The nails were basically nonexistent; before every battle he would often chew them so low they would bleed. The tender flesh of his palms was callused from holding a sword for hours at a time. There were little nicks and cuts along his fingers and wrists. The skin was dry, chapped and peeling from repeated washings; he could, even now, still see the blood.

"There is much blood on your hands."

He let out a small gasp. Technically his hands were clean, but he knew that the blood of those he murdered had soaked through to his soul permanently staining it. "I am a soldier," he replied in a tone he felt sounded far to weary. He doubted she would except his lame excuse, anyway.

"Yes," she murmured. Cautiously one pale arm emerged from the layers of silk. She reached out with her index finger – the nail long and painted a brilliant red – and touched his palm.

That was the exact moment she had bewitched him. For the rest of that life, as well as the four hundred years following, all other women would pale in comparison to her.

Gently she ran her nail across his palm until it touched the tiny bit of exposed skin on his wrist. He could not help the shiver that ran though his body or the flush that he was certain was staining his cheeks. "My lady…" he whispered his voice horse.

She stopped her exquisite torture and gazed at him. She was the picture of elegance and calm; all a proper lady should be. But her eyes, he realized, were so sad and frightened.

"You," she said her voice slightly shaken. "Serve the Uesugi, do you not?"

"Of course, my lady. I would give my life to them."

"And me?"

"Yes," he said quickly, firmly, and hoped she knew he meant it with every ounce of his being.

He watched her as she battled with herself, her gaze on hem of her dress. She nibbled her lower lip then drew her eyes to him. Suddenly she threw herself into his arms holding onto him for dear life. Startled he gazed at her. "My…"

"Then listen to me, Yasuda Nagahide, and grant me this one favor." She snuggled closer to him. Her face mere inches from his own; her lips dangerously close. "I know the man I am to marry. He is a cruel man… his energy practically black. I do not want him to touch me in an intimate manner and yet I have to – he will be my husband. I am to serve and obey him. Being a woman… I am but a mere pawn. I have never made a real design in all my life. From my hair to my clothes to what I will do on a daily basis to whom I am to marry. All of it is decided for me."

She gripped the linen of his shirt, linking her fingers under the armor plate that protected his chest. There were still several layers of fabric between his skin and those slender fingers, but he felt as if she were touching bare flesh. His body was flushed and he was hard as a rock, throbbing mercilessly against the confines of his pants and armor.

Her lithe body fit perfectly against him. He could feel the supple curves of her as she held onto him. Full breasts pressed against his chest while her slender thighs fitted against his own. The apex of her body rubbed deliciously against his throbbing cock. Her mouth was mere inches from his, lips full and begging for kisses. Had he not been so shocked by her speech or their position against the wall, he would have complied and kissed her senseless.

If anyone were to find them, however, he would be killed on sight. She would not have the same merciful demise. Such thoughts kept him from touching her. His arms tightly against his sides, hands in fists, he could not, would not ruin her.

Gazing into his eyes, a blue fire burning in her own, she licked her dry lips then spoke softly. "My father will not listen to me. I tried to explain to him that I did not want to marry that man. That he was dark and evil, but he would not listen to me." She sighed and closed her eyes painfully. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around her waist for comfort.

"I have become a burden, you see. A worthless woman who's sole purpose is to marry for more wealth. But because of my…" she paused mulling over the right word, " 'uniqueness', my father put it off for far too long. I suppose he had grown weary of me not bringing anything to the family. My brothers' excel, as you well know, and I… I do nothing but fail. So now he has chosen a husband for me. One who is ruthless, powerful, rich and willing to take me as his bride. Once more, in something that matters the most, I do not get a say."

She fell silent. Sighing heavily she pressed her cheek to his chest. Without thinking he cradled the back of her head, his fingers threading into the inky silk of her hair. "I'm sorry, my lady. I had…"

"Hush," she muttered. It was a command, but not an angry one. In fact she sounded like a tired lover trying to fall asleep. He was quiet for a moment until she pulled back and looked up at him; his fingers still knotted in her hair.

"But I'm finally going to make a decision for myself, so do not feel sorry for me. In fact… you can help me accomplish it."

He opened his mouth to speak, but she silenced him with a look.

"I want you to be the man to take my innocence."

Shocked by her request, his knees buckled and he slipped to the floor taking her with him. He stared into her eyes that were pleading. It was as if he was the only man on Earth that could fulfill her plea.

"M-my lady," he stammered, blinking at her. Usually he was so reserved, so well spoken, so calm about everything. But this woman had managed to startle him nearly to death. "I-I can not do as you ask. I don't think you understand exactly what you are asking of me."

She lowered her lashes, a faint blush creeping across her painted skin. Opening those blue orbs again she said, "I know what I ask."

"You do not!" he demanded firmly giving her a little shake, but unconsciously pulling her tighter against him. "You are to be married to a powerful lord. You must provide proof of your innocence with blood. That only happens once. If he beds you and there is no blood he will know that you were not a virgin and he could have you killed! As well as become an enemy against your father. What you're asking me is…"

"It's what I want!" she shouted pressing her lips against his.

Shocked he opened his mouth and her tongue invaded with innocent ardor. She tasted like honey, slick and sweet. He gave into the kiss crushing her mouth against his battling against her tongue.

She let out a delicious little squeak as he pushed her down onto the mats. Dragging his mouth away from hers as she whimpered in protest he gazed into the beautiful blue eyes beneath him. For the rest of his days –living and dead – that gaze would haunt him.

"This is very dangerous, Hanairo… for both of us."

She looped slender arms around his neck and pulled their lips together for a searing kiss. "I'll never tell," she whispered after they both broke apart panting. "I know how to injure myself so there is blood when he takes me. It will be all right. I want this to be with you, Nagahide." She smiled softly, dreamily, removing her arms from his neck and pulling at the fabric of her dress exposing inches of creamy flesh. "There is a soft light in your soul. A light like that of my brothers… like that of a few other people I have met… very few people. I'm letting you touch me because I trust that light."

She held his dark gaze for what seemed like an eternity and spoke so softly he almost did not hear her. "I trust… you."

Nagahide opened his eyes to the wintry wonderland flying by him. Rubbing his face vigorously he slouched more into his seat. He was aroused and dry-mouthed. He also had an aching hole in his chest that had not gone away in sixty years. Readjusting in his seat he turned to stare out the window once more.

He had taken her innocence that day. He could describe it as nothing short of magical. Truly it was the most erotic moment of his life. All soft limbs and flowing silk. She had been perfect beneath him, whimpering and moaning for more. He had been as gentle as possible, but he knew he had hurt her. Even so he was certain that lord-fucking-bastard would have hurt her more.

Two days after he had become completely and utterly intoxicated with her, she was gone. She had told him, centuries ago, that the day before the wedding she had cut the inner folds of her womanhood with a pin. Friction had caused the wound to bleed and be uncomfortable and therefore gave the appearance of virginity.

Clever little minx she was, he thought smiling. She was always so damned clever. But with all of her intelligence and wit, it could not save her from his deadly hands. Eight months into her marriage she was dead.

She had started sending her brothers' letters two weeks after her wedding. Each letter was very casual. She would talk of the weather, what she had done that day, how her silly cat was - nothing major. About the fourth letter Lord Kagetora started to notice a strange pattern. Several kanji were written in slightly lighter ink. Not terribly lighter just enough so that on closer inspection one would notice the ink difference. Stringing these kanji together they formed words and sentences speaking of her new husband's misdeeds against her. It started out as yelling and screaming then actual violence.

There was nothing they could do, however. She had become his property regardless of how he treated her she belonged to him. Though it was very clear both brothers were enraged. The final letter came in the form of a black cat. Helena appeared at the castle one night much to everyone's surprise and dread. Etched inside the bell the feline wore as a nametag, was the kanji for 'help' in blood.

That was the final straw. That was also where he had been brought back into the picture. Due to his stealth, Kagetora had sent him to literally steal Hanairo back.

He left at dawn at break-neck speed, and arrived in the middle of the night. He slipped into the castle, not a very easy task considering how heavily guarded it was, and fortunately happened upon a maid emptying a soap bucket. After charming the woman nearly out of her skirts, he was able to find out where Lady Hanairo's rooms were and the fastest, quietest way to get there.

He entered like a thief in the night - the room dark as pitch and as silent as death. He feared that they were too late until he heard a soft whimper from a heavily shadowed corner of the room. Rushing over to it he was filled with anguish and murderous intent.

She lay in a curled up heap in a torn, bloody dressing gown. Her left eye was blackened, her lip spilt. A wound at her right temple left a dried trail of blood down to her jaw. Her right arm was cradled protectively over the slight swell of her stomach. At the apex of her legs, soaking her gown, was blood. It trickled down her legs and stopped weakly at her calves.

In a wave of crushing guilt and protectiveness he fell to his knees before her and pulled her into his arms. She came willingly choking on sobs of relief. "I-I knew… you'd come…" she whispered her voice raw.

Lifting her gently into his arms he said fervently, "I will never let you go."

She whimpered tucking her face against his neck. Her breath shallow against the column of flesh. "My baby died… he blamed me for it."

"Hush," he said quietly tightening his arms around her. "We're not going to talk about it. Let's get you out of here."

They escaped the same way he had come in. It was relatively easy to get out, but the trip back to the Uesugi was torture. He drove his horse as hard and as fast as the animal could take - Hanairo tucked protectively in his arms.

A few hours into the trip he knew they were being followed, but he was relentless in making sure they, especially her, made it back to the Uesugi castle. He used to blame himself for her death. Perhaps if they had not rode so hard she would not have been jostled so much and she would have made it back to her home.

The castle had come into view like a shinning beacon of hope. The sun had risen and it was nearly midday. The gates were open awaiting their return. "Look, Hanairo, you're almost home."

He glanced down at her tucked securely against his chest. She was much too pale and looked far too thin even with the bump of her abdomen. Her dark lashes a stark contrast against her white skin. Those long lashes fluttered open and that beautiful blue gaze held his. Her hand shaking, she touched his cheek. Her mouth opened as to speak, but no words came out.

Bewildered he breathed her name. A soft smile graced her lips as her eyes closed and her hand fell away. She gasped and went completely slack in his arms right outside the gates. "Hanairo!" he shouted as they thundered through the wooden doors.

He rubbed damp palms against jean clad thighs. That had been one of the worst experiences of his life. Second only to what happened sixty years ago. Her husband had arrived at the castle an hour afterwards. He was enraged by the fact that that someone had the nerve to steal his property and then kill her.

Lord Kagetora was the first to encounter Sorin who claimed he was in love with Hanairo and would never, ever, lay a hand on her. Whoever kidnapped her must have beaten her to death. Lord Kagetora was about to kill Lord Sorin at that comment, but Lord Kenshin arrived and demanded a privet audience with Lord Sorin.

What exactly was said between the two lords no one was certain, but the gist of it was the complete abolishment of all ties between the two clans. Lord Kenshin swore vengeance for his daughter while Lord Sorin swore to kill all members of the Uesugi for stealing his property.

Lord Kenshin was killed in battle a few years after his daughter's death. When he made a deal with Bishamonten about his soul, he could not be the only possessor. He had to have his men around him. He had to create the Nether World Uesugi Army. And what better person to help hunt down the vengeful souls of his men than a soul that was able to see auras as a mortal.

Lord Kenshin had found his daughter's angry soul wondering the grounds right outside the castle gates. She would often over turn carts laden with food, weapons and supplies; frighten visiting armies and clans, open and close the gates on a whim and send villagers screaming in her outrage. Not only was she dead, but her soul could not step past the castle gates and enter her home.

Kenshin had battled with her for days; she had attacked him in her outrage. Fortunately he was able to turn her into a possessor and ease her vengeful heart and mind. Her limited powers when she was first alive paled in comparison to what she was capable of as a possessor.

She helped him track down and find his sons, his generals and of course his full army. In return he found her cat, which was nearly on death's door by this time, and made her a demon so that they could always be together.

He had to admit that Hanairo was very different after she became a possessor. For awhile she was skittish and frightened. She was even colder to people than she had been in the past. After a while, however – several dozen decades – she started to realize that she was safe with the Uesugi and that her husband was not going to reclaim her. That and she realized when people touched her she could control the affects each aura had on her own body, her own soul.

She was no longer tormented by human contact instead she relished in it. She laughed constantly and smiled all the time. Simple human touches like handshakes and hugs were no longer foreign to her. Every chance she got she would touch someone in some way.

Her laugher, her smiles, her casual touches were infectious to the people around her. She seemed to make those around her brighten simply by walking into a room. The gossip of her past turned into gossip of adoration. "Such a kind lady", was often followed after her wherever she went.

He was no longer the only one bewitched by her. Now he had competition – an entire army's worth. Many men wanted her: her radiant beauty and her bright, caring, smiling personality, who would not want her? She was protected, however, due to her status and her family.

Kageyasu was the one who had told him to peruse the relationship with his sister. "I've seen the longing in her eyes, as well as yours. Why do you avoid her as you do? We were all lucky to gain another chance at life… and at love. You should not let that opportunity pass you by."

He had been right, of course. Taking his lord's advice, he had barged into Hanairo's rooms and kissed her senseless. He could still vividly remember the look of shock on her face as he swept her into his arms and told her he loved her.

He let out a sigh, a smile whisking across his face. They had been together since then. His men would tease him telling him that he had become her lapdog. Of course he did not care; he would gladly be her loyal dog for all of eternity as long as she would have him. Sixty years ago, however, their eternity was cut short.

Lord Sorin had not given up on the day of his wife's death. He too became a vengeful spirit and was found by one of the Uesugi's enemies. To this day, no one is completely certain who turned him into a possessor – Hojo, Takeda or Oda. What is known, however, is that once "alive" again Sorin came after his wife with a vengeance.

For two hundred years he fluttered around Hanairo always there but just out of reach. She would often claim she felt his presence. Sometimes he was but a few feet away and others, miles. He would leave her notes speaking of how he was going to kill her; other times he would leave her flowers either dead, soaked in blood, or withered. A few times there were dead animals or parts of them left to her.

Back and forth and back and forth he seemed to dance with her causing her to act like a terrified rabbit. Even with all of the promises of protection her father, brothers, Naoe and Haruie, as well as himself made it did nothing to calm her paranoia. He tortured her like that until sixty years ago when he extracted his revenge.

Burying his head in his hands he tried to block out the images dancing before his eyelids. The mangled body on a cross, barely recognizable as the woman he loved so dearly; the seal etched upon her forehead and filled with ash – her hands that he had cremated – and ink. The sight, the smell of her body, of the mark upon her forehead that declared she was bound to the darkest reaches of hell, was too much to bear.

He had killed himself right then and there only to remain in a state of limbo for twenty some odd years torturing himself for not being able to protect her… for losing her. He could never forgive himself.

Shaking his head, feeling rather like he was going to vomit all over the floor, he tried to calm his breathing. He hated remembering that fateful day. It was on that day that every soft, gentle emotion he had left was frozen then shattered.

"Hanairo," he whispered his heart aching. "I'm coming for you and I swear on my soul, I'll never let you go again."

Authors Note: Hi! Hi! Hi! Goodness it's been awhile. I apologize for that… but life is busy sometimes. That and I'm finishing up w/ chpts 9 and 10 so those will be up real soon, promise! I just hope you guys can wait that long.

Now chpt 7 raised a lot of questions, I noticed. That's good! Yay! But also, erm, I dunno… bad for my character. Haha! Hopefully this chpt makes ppl like her more. But if not that's okay… as long as you keep reading! sad puppy dog eyes

I hope that ppl enjoyed Nagahide as well. He's not very developed in the anime, so I kinda took what I saw and thought and ran w/ it. Please say I didn't trip and fall down! I had a lot of fun/ pain writing his feelings and memories. It was hard trying to think like a man in a sense.

Also I wasn't sure if Nagahide's name was Yasuda Nagahide or Nagahide Yasuda. I saw it both ways and sometimes I'm not entirely sure which is the right way. So if someone could tell me I'll be more than happy to fix that. Thanks!

And, um, well… I don't know a lot about the past events of the Uesugi. I'm only basing this fic on the anime so I had to make a lot of stuff up. I also left things not as detailed as I would have wanted. If anyone has some notes on the facts I'd love to hear them and I will definitely change things in my story to fit them. I'm a stickler for stuff like that. Like Kageyasu is the name of Kagetora's brother, yes? I'm pretty sure it is; that's what it is in the actually history so I took a wild guess. insert nervous laugh So if it's wrong I'll change that, too.
Do enjoy and thanks for reading. Please leave me feedback! Thanks so much!! Ana

Next Chapter: To be with You… Always

"Never leave me again. I couldn't bare it."